


but there's something you forgot

by Anonymous



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: AROBYNN IS AN OPIATE ADDICT, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Dealing, Drugs, F/M, Guns, Heavy Angst, Loan Sharking, Partying, READ ALL TAGS !, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rowan is in the Army, Sad with a Happy Ending, Slang, Smoking, This Is Dark Fic, Underage Drinking, arobynn pays the bills with his drug money ok? this is not for the faint of heart, but there is a hea!, lets get this show on the road!, opiate use, rowaelin end game, school difficulties, there are a lot of triggers!, you have been warned !
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29343987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A concept: We are the architects of our own destruction.Alternatively: Aelin Galathynius believes she is replaceable--it takes a series of tragedies for her to learn that she isnot.a throne of glass DARK FIC
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Arobynn Hamel, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16
Collections: anonymous





	1. if i die young; bury me in satin

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very dark, very sad and emotional fic. Please read all the tags.

**January 2009**

Music blares from an iPhone speaker, Aelin’s best friend Lysandra grinds in Aedion’s arms. Lysandra has always been shameless when it came to her and Aedion’s sex life. Aedion is equally as shameless and Aedion’s friend—a guy Aedion went to high school with and is buds with is over at their house tonight.

Lysandra and Aedion are one of those couples that no one knows when they got together—just that they’ve been together for what seems like eons.

“A!” Lysandra calls out, and Aelin Galathynius turns around from her place where she was not so secretly stealing more lemon vodka from Lysandra’s stash. “Get out of the liquor cabinet!” Lys chastises her best friend.

Aelin is short and has rivers of golden blonde hair. The side part she’s used tonight is accented by two curls, one on each of her temples. She is radiant.

There’s a knock at the door, and Lys turns down the music, checks her phone, and opens the door. It’s January and they’re having this small gathering to send off Rowan—one of Aedions buds and a friend Lysandra’s.

Aelin almost inhales her drink—Rowan is _that_ beautiful. He’s got a bottle of tequila—Quervo Gold. Aelin won’t admit she’s got a drinking problem—and for all her life it has been something that’s influenced her choices. At fifteen she got drunk with a bunch of guys in their late twenties and her father—Rhoe Galathynius—the Senator—had to drag her out of the den of vipers. The boys had all been ready to take full advantage of the situation. Rhoe has sworn since that day that Aelin is not permitted to drink no matter her age in his house.

Needless to say, that had rankled—not a little but a lot. So Aelin has made it her duty to get as drunk as she likes—as often as she likes. She smokes weed too—and tried coke in high school. Yes, drugs and alcohol have a long history with this girl.

These are the thoughts that go through Aelin’s head as she looks at Rowan—and knows how drunk she wants to get with him.

Rowan is already eyeing her back, “Who’s the cub?”

Rowan might’ve phrased that differently if he knew Aelin’s legendary temper typically proceeded her.

Aelin frowns, but Rowan hugs her, and she hugs him back—she’s already drunk enough to be overly friendly. “Hey baby,” Rowan purrs and tucks a few pieces of candy and some mini bottles of liquor in her hand. She wants to say something snotty—but he’s handed her two bottles of Ciroc and her favorite candy—Milkyway Midnight.

Aelin bites her lip and doesn’t let her friends see—he’d been told these were her favorites—likely by Lysandra or Aedion. She didn’t like to think how much it meant to her that someone would go through such pains to make a good impression—so she pops a Milkyway in her mouth and chases the candy with the Ciroc.

Rowan’s already pouring himself some of his tequila. He fixes her with an interested look—Lysandra has popped off with a squeak of — “Birth control!” and they are left alone— no about while Aedion finger fucks Lys.

“So… you’re not from around here are you?” Rowan asks.

“No—a couple towns over I went to school with Lys though.”

Rowan smirks at her—and she wonders if he knows how wet she is—just looking at him. She could tell how Aedion and Rowan knew each other—she’d seen Rowan play football in high school with Aedion—and knew Rowan could probably bench press her whole body weight with no problem.

“Rowan—“

“Yeah, darling?” The smarmy little—

His hand cups her hip, and Aelin is struck dumb by how handsome he is up close she doesn’t care if he’s being a fuck boy right now—she’d gladly sell her soul to the devil for a dime in exchange for one night with this man. She leans to his ear— “Call me darling again and I’ll make you cry.”

Rowan’s rumbling laughter draws Lysandra and Aedion from their bedroom. Aedion flops on the couch—“Rowan’s a jackass don’t let him in your pants—“

Rowan snarls, “Thanks for cockblocking—you didn’t see me in your bedroom trying to get my hand down Lys’ pants.”

Aelin likes him—he’s a bad boy—but he seems to have some kind of emotion when it comes to her.

She doesn’t know it but the bond they form tonight will carry them through many hard years, war and loss would not be an obstacle to their love.

Rowan has tattoos, she finds out as they play beer pong—and Rowan takes of his Carhart jacket. Aelin’s blood practically boils with the need to have him inside her.

Several games of pong—and a couple of rounds of Lys getting sick outside their front door—Aelin is feeling sleepy and like she’d like to be alone with Rowan.

Lys and Aedion mosey back to their room—and Aelin and Rowan are left alone.

“You want the couch?” Rowan offers to take some blankets and pillows out of Lys’ hall closet.

“I don’t want to make you sleep on the floor, Rowan.”

Rowan has the happy carefree attitude of someone who doesn’t know that sleeping on the floor the night before one ships off to war—might not be the best idea.

Rowan makes up a sort of nest for them—and they lay in the dark, some quiet music playing from Aelin’s phone so they don’t have to hear every squeak of Aedion and Lysandra’s bed.

“You’re really cute.” Rowan says drunkenly.

Aelin giggles, “You’re hot as fuck.”

Rowan rolls over on top of her, not minding her vodka breath—and kisses her.

It is a kiss she’d remember for many, many decades to come. It is an earth-shattering kiss. It doesn’t matter that Rowan is drunk or that maybe his intention had been to fuck her all night—but he had waited.

It feels in that moment like they must have some kind of bond, a tether holding them together on this earth. Aelin moans as Rowan’s powerful body presses into all the soft parts of her. His cock—it’s perfect long and thick without being too big and she can feel it pressing against her jeans.

Rowan kisses her again, and if Aelin had been less of a slut the pleasure would have made her eyes roll back. She regrets that he is not her first. That this tender man will only ever get parts of her. And he is tender—he eats her pussy like it’s a five-course meal and he hasn’t eaten in a month. It’s not something Aelin expects from her one-night stands—because surely that’s what this is right?

When they finally undress, hiding under the thick blankets—he whispers, “Are you on the pill?” She nods, and kisses him, guiding him inside her, they both shudder with pleasure—Aelin might be a qualified slut but she’s still tight, still beautiful, and everything Rowan needs.

Rowan’s strokes are slow, and tantalizing, they complete the gaping wound in Aelin’s chest. She no longer feels hollowed out, no longer a vessel for pain—but gods she would give this man every night of her life if it was up to her. “Rowan—gods!” Rowan teases her clit, as a reward.

Aelin sighs and Rowan kneads her breasts, his hands are all over her.

When Aelin comes—and she does come, nearly hard enough to wake the whole house—she lets Rowan hold her as she clenches and shakes in his arms. He hasn’t even come yet, ever the gentleman. “Please,” Aelin whispers to her newfound lover, Rowan obliges her a few powerful strokes later he’s spilling into her pussy. She rubs his back—kisses his five o’clock shadow and they lie there.

They repeat the process over the next few hours until it is nearly dawn. Soft, sweet words are all they exchange for hours, and by the time daybreak comes she’s aching from what the morning will bring.

Seperation—devastation.

“I don’t want to go—“ Rowan says slowly, as they dress. They can hear Lysandra and Aedion making their last turns in bed.

She wonders if this night is all she’ll have to remember him by—all she’ll ever take up in his memories.

How had she formed such a close bond with this man—literally overnight?

Aelin kisses him, “Remember me.”

Rowan grins and picks her up by her hips—spinning her around. “How could I forget you?”

They have breakfast, and Aelin holds it together as Aedion drives Rowan to the airport. When they leave—Lys declares she’s deep cleaning the house and that Aelin should get some gatorade for her headache.

Aelin walks out to her car—barely holding it together. She sits in Lys’ drive for fifteen minutes—grieves the loss of this night and drives into the morning light.

She has to forget him, as she has forgotten so many other nights.

She wishes time didn’t slip through her fingers. She wishes Rowan could stay.

A text comes in on her phone and she recognizes the number vaguely.

[sms: Arobynn Hamel] Heard you were in town and didn’t see me.

[sms: Arobynn Hamel] I miss you.

[sms: Arobynn Hamel] I haven’t seen you in years let’s catch up.

And she is weak, so weak. So Aelin Galathynius runs into another man’s arms, always chasing the transient high of affection.


	2. raw as hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wheel turns, nothing changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if cheating is a trigger for you (rowaelin don't cheat on each other--Aelin cheats on Arobynn) best to skip this!

**May 2011**

It’s strange how good things grow—they grow together, like weeds—or not at all. Before Aelin knew it she was sitting in a bed of roses. There was still some bone-deep aches in her life—her father had lost their house—the crash of 07’-08’ and the housing crisis that followed had left them in a small apartment—Rhoe’s second wife—had left him. She was glad—the woman had only ever caused discord between the girl and her father.

“Dad I’m going to be late for work—“ Aelin laughs and Rhoe laughs too.

“Just trying to make sure you’re well fed before your big shift.”

Aelin picks at the gluten-free pancakes, she’s already had three small ones—she would have to pay for this with about an hour on the elliptical. Real maple syrup, real butter, and carbs. She’d lost some weight lately, she was lean and mean and strong.

Aelin leaves the apartment. It’s as if her father knows there’s something she’s not telling him. There had never been secrets between them—or maybe there had. She shoves the topic forcefully from her train of thought.

She texts Arobynn, now her steady boyfriend.

[Arobynn] Good morning! I’m on my way into town. It’s my first shift for my internship.

[Aelin] Morning babe. You sound excited, I hope it goes well.

_Babe_. That was he called her, and it was sweet and simple. Arobynn had just moved back into his own place after living with his parents for about a year. He was roughly eighteen months older than her—making him just twenty-three to her nearly twenty-one.

It was a good relationship, Aelin thought to herself. Sure, there was Arobynn’s dark past—that felony he’d gotten when he was eighteen. She’d excused the fact that the man she’d been falling in love with for years was an A1 felon because he’d been kind and good in bed and didn’t seem to really be the **_bad_** boy that his criminal record dictated.

But he was.

He would always live in the shadow of his past, no matter how good his lawyers were.

And that past would haunt Aelin too.

*~*~*

Aelin was glad she’d laid her clothes out and pressed them when she got to the hospital. It was wildly busy—even though it was only a few minutes before seven when she stepped in the door.

But she was now an intern at the only trauma center between New York City and Ontario, Canada—life was about to get busy. She meets with the doctors—who are doing a sort of morning pow-wow.

“Who are you?” One of the male doctors asks, looking annoyed and like he needed a strong coffee.

“Aelin Galathynius, I’m an undergraduate intern.” The words fall from her lips before she can stop them—thinking they’d be a point of pride.

He sneers at her, “I’m Doctor Moonbeam—I’m the supervising physician for today—can you get me some coffee?”

Aelin wants so badly to roll her eyes, to say that her intern supervisor told her she was here to observe—to _learn._ But she swallows her pride—“How do you take it?”

She gets his coffee, and tries to be civil—Doctor Moonbeam turns out to be a nice guy—who happened to be a little scatterbrained.

She goes out to smoke—a filthy habit she’d picked up from Arobynn, and sees Doctor Moonbeam out there. He’s not much older than her, maybe early-mid thirties.

“Sorry about this morning,” Doctor Moonbeam says through a mouthful of smoke.

“No worries,” Aelin says easily.

“You did really well today—you didn’t get in the residents' way and asked questions when it was appropriate—“ Dr. Moonbeam says in a rueful tone of voice, lighting another cigarette.

Aelin smirks, “Thanks.”

“Are you single—“ The doctor asks her.

Aelin would usually go wide-eyed and simper that she was absolutely taken. But Fenrys Moonbeam is enigmatic—a fucking genius and didn’t have a felony record.

“I might be—who’s asking?” Aelin says with a grin, the cigarette loosely held between two fingers, “Is Doctor Moonbeam asking or Fenrys?”

The early summer sun, now warm on their cheeks beams down, and Aelin wonders if there is a bottom to the well of serotonin she seems to be swimming in.

“Fenrys—“ And he brushes a kiss to her temple—and goes back inside.

*~*~*

When Aelin arrives at Arobynn’s place that night—she’s tired, Fenry’s had been a gentleman, had even let her pick the music while he fucked her in the back of his Mercedes—he’d offered dinner and movie but she couldn’t make the time. He’d used a rubber, and she’d showered at the gym after an intense workout—Arobynn would never know.

“So how was your day love?”

Aelin wraps her arms around him— feeling the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his rock solid body. Arobynn had something of a fascination with the gym—although whenever they’d tried to work out—Arobynn had complained Aelin’s routine was too intense for him. She was cruel on her body—pushing herself every time she stepped into the gym. She had wider hips than was strictly fashionable—so she dieted and trained hard.

Long ago—when Arobynn had been friends with Aedion and they were all still in high school—Aelin had been cruelly teased for her body. Arobynn had called her a _troll_.

She wasn’t sure if she forgave him for those comments yet.

Aelin puts her stuff in Arobynn’s room—Arobynn had roommates but they weren’t around much—Arobynn tackles her to the bed and she squeaks as he tickles her.

“Babe you look like you need cock—“

What she needed was a bath—and to text Fenrys and get her mail.

She tries to prevent herself from thinking about the letter from Rowan that might be waiting for her at home. As soon as she thinks of Rowan—of his kind words and the night they’d shared, and the letters they’d exchanged—her blood runs cold. She was a slut, and Arobynn never missed an opportunity to comment on all the guys he knew that she’d fucked. Rowan had never given a damn—probably because they’d never been in a real relationship.

No.

She wouldn’t think about Fenrys or Rowan or any other man when she was with Arobynn.

“You look like you’re a hundred miles away—babe,” Arobynn says softly. He could be good to her—really he could be. When he wasn’t using her car to deliver drugs—when he wasn’t letting his friends sit in her backseat and drink a forty-ounce beer to their faces when he wasn’t being _himself_. But the bad boy charm, kept her coming back every time.

Aelin growls, “I need you inside me—“

So they fuck—and it is not tender and it is not soft. Aelin knows all the spots to make Arobynn’s teeth grit with pleasure. As he comes—the squeak of his teeth gritting together in her ear—she thinks of Rowan. She thinks of all the beautiful places on the earth where she could be with any other man. Not in Arobynn’s stupid apartment—listening to the most obnoxious sound on earth.

Arobynn and Aelin roll off each other, Arobynn kisses her, and she tries to ignore how used she feels—how wildly unhappy she is.

*~*~*

Arobynn is slow to get up the next morning, and Aelin is a little concerned. “Babe, I’m going to work ok?” She says trying to tuck him back in.

Arobynn grumbles and slaps her ass, “Have a good day.”

If Aelin had been a less observant woman, she wouldn’t have noticed. She would have taken her shit and gone to her internship—and left Arobynn to whatever he got up to during the day. But the small plastic baggie on the bedside table. It had powder in it—a whiteish-yellow powder.

Aelin swallows her fear and takes the stack of bills on the bedside table—she knew Arobynn was supposed to meet with some guy from New York city for weed. That was supposedly all Arobynn sold—weed. But she realizes now how bad things are.

Old habits do not die—and she should’ve known.

She steals his money—and leaves—maybe it will save his life—Arobynn’s father died of a heroin overdose when he was eight.

Apparently, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.


	3. i pay my dues, you keep the difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are so many tragedies in a lifetime--Aelin knows she will not escape it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... an incredibly moving and sad chapter. There is _graphic_ description of Arobynn, Manon, Dorian and Chaol all using opiates in this chapter. The chapter ends on a really brutal note. 
> 
> Please take care of yourself.

**Summer 2011**

It was a beautiful July day—stiflingly warm, and the sun was shining—just the way Aelin liked it. Something about the heat made her feel even more in her element than the fact she’d just received the okay from her advisor to commence the research portion of her internship. Her internship supervisor—a real prick of a woman, had landed her this and placed the utmost faith in Aelin.

Aelin had sent out many, many emails last night while she was high on weed with Arobynn.

She felt like such a fool, which she faced the residents the next morning, some of them giving her knowing or disappointed looks. She deals with the surveys and swabs their white coats, and hands out the gift cards—which were a thank you for participating.

She handles it all—and then she gets a text from Arobynn.

**[Arobynn]** I need to use your car.

No, _hi how are you honey_ no, _how was your day_. She makes a face at her phone and holds it tight in her hand. _She will not crush her phone, she will not crush her phone._

**[Aelin]** Sorry, I’m busy.

 **[Aelin]** You know because it’s _my_ car.

They’d run around, burning Aelin’s money and gas for almost six hours the previous night before finally going back to Arobynn’s apartment and getting rip-roaring drunk and high. Aelin begins to understand that she’s got something of a problem. She’d drank her way through a six-pack—all by herself last night.

Sure, it had been fun while they were drinking and smoking—and Arobynn had given her some epic sex. But, his affection seemed to be even more hollow when she was drunk out of her mind. It’s not that Arobynn didn’t love her, she was sure he did in his own twisted way. Her car was new and they’d been in an accident—a minor one—the previous spring. Aelin had been going to get Arobynn somewhere he’d gotten stranded selling drugs—and someone had rear-ended her. It was a simple matter of time until something unfortunate happened again. She was sure of it. Her car was her baby—a 20th birthday present from her father.

**[Arobynn]** Don’t be a bitch, babe.

She could almost hear him saying it. The way he’d say it with no real malice but with mild annoyance and a touch of affection. She’s still at one of the lecture halls at the Medical School and can’t even begin to think about what having a breakdown here would look like.

They’d probably revoke her internship.

So she packs up her things, she tries to stay composed until she got to the aforementioned car—she finds Arobynn smoking, his hip leaned against her red Honda Civic.

She settles on amused indifference, “What’s up, I thought you needed a ride?”

“I got Manon to give me a ride.” Arobynn’s shark-like smile sets her teeth on edge.

Manon—one of Aelin’s closest friends, and also a friend of Arobynn’s from high school—was a notorious cheater. She was currently dating Aelin’s friend Dorian. She wanted to knife Manon and Arobynn right now.

Aelin raises a brow, “Oh yeah? I bet she did give you a ride.”

Arobynn snorts, “I didn’t mind when she was kissing you last weekend.” His body curls into hers, and she stomps off to put her things in her car. When she’s done, Aelin turns on her heel, and points a dagger-like nail into Arobynn’s muscled chest, “You know I didn’t want the dumb slut all over me—I usually have better taste in women than I do men.”

Arobynn quirks a brow, “Are you saying I’m a bad boyfriend?”

Aelin was about to say something she’d deeply regret, she always seems on the edge of disaster these days. So Aelin settles for stroking Arobynn’s already huge ego. They always solved things with sex, that was their love language. “Let’s go,” Aelin says, climbing in a buckling up. Arobynn always refused to buckle up, and it would be Aelin who got the ticket—if they were pulled over. Arobynn would likely dump all his drugs in her lap and say they were hers too. She knew that—knew what the stakes were and never thought twice about it.

Somehow the bickering never made her want to tell him to get lost, it only endeared him to her. They roll out of the parking lot and go back to Arobynn’s place. When they got back to Arobynn’s, Aelin wasn’t sure she’d call it home—she sees Arobynn had stocked her favorite hard ciders and dragon fruit vodka.

Aelin kisses him—a thank you—and cracks the top on the vodka, taking a shot straight out of the bottle. “Easy, babe,” Arobynn says easing the bottle out of her hand. He shows her the bottle-and her cheeks flush.

Arobynn sticks the bottle someplace out of reach, knowing Aelin will be _very_ buzzed in a few minutes—and probably very horny. Aelin roams into the living room, flicks on ESPN for Arobynn and they talk, with the TV being background noise. Arobynn takes her car out to pick up take out. They gorge themselves on pleasure, food, alcohol, cigarettes, and weed.

Aelin wakes to three missed texts from her father.

**[Dad]** I’m out of my mind with worry.

 **[Dad]** Your school called and you’re in very big trouble.

 **[Dad]** If you’ve been drinking during your internship—just stay where you are and I’ll come get you.

That was at six the previous night. She calls her father, “Daddy I’m sorry—“

Rhoe’s voice is stony, “Just get home. We’ll deal with whatever addiction you have as soon as you’re away from _that boy_.”

Aelin _had_ been drinking heavily the night before she’d gone in to do the surveys and white coat testing. Maybe they thought she’d been drinking that morning? But she’d showered!

Aelin’s willful determination sticks like a barb in her throat. “I’m not coming home, I’m not addicted to anything.”

Rhoe’s exhales shakily, “You will come home, and you will not stay at that horrid boy’s house for one more night.”

“Don’t call Arobynn that!”

And so the argument goes on until Arobynn wakes and takes the phone from Aelin’s hands and speaks to Rhoe. Rhoe Galathynius was no fool, Aelin tries to tell Arobynn that it’s no good—not when her father got on one of his venting sessions. That her temper was matched only by her fathers.

Finally, Rhoe must say something offensive—and Arobynn hangs up on her old man.

“Arobynn!” Aelin barks at her boyfriend.

A text comes in from her father.

[Dad] Rowan sent you mail.

And just like that, her nightmare morning is over—she’s thinking about her shining star in an endless night. When she packs up her shit and goes home, Arobynn has chain-smoked five cigarettes and looks murderous. He waves her off though as she zips down the residential road Arobynn lives on.

She gets home, slightly breathless, and as soon as she arrives, her father seems to want to talk to her—about everything under the sun.

Rhoe has Rowan’s letter in his hand, “I’ll give it to you if you stay here tonight.” Rhoe tries to bargain with his daughter.

She doesn’t have to think, “Of course.”

Rhoe hands the letter over with shaking fingers, she hates seeing her father like this.

She goes into the living room, they’d been standing in the foyer. Aelin sits on the couch and begins to cry as she reads Rowan’s letter. It’s so sweet, so breathtakingly amazing. It’s been years since she’s Rowan, but there’s a date at the end of the letter.

_I’m coming home on the 26_ _ th _ _of September. My flight will get in at 3:15pm, see you there?_

She’s balling now, rivers of tears chasing down her cheeks. Rhoe doesn’t ask what’s wrong, he knows when his daughter is hurting. So he turns on the TV and flicks on Beauty and the Beast, the 1991 version. It’s always been Aelin’s comfort movie. So she sits there and she sobs, knowing that she’s lucky to be getting Rowan back. Knowing that this might end her desperation to be loved.

Because Rowan, if there was even a shred of the man she’d been exchanging letters with for almost three years, was her one true match. The one man who could make her feel whole after being broken for so long.

Rhoe is quiet for a long time—but then he speaks up when Aelin’s been quiet and is finally settled into watching the movie. “Can we talk about the drinking and drugging and—“ Rhoe snarls, “Arobynn Hamel is not welcome in this family.”

She’s torn. She feels like her heart is being shredded. Because after everything, after all the fights and all the things she’s sacrificed for Arobynn, she knows it won’t be easy to let him go now.

“I know he’s not,” Aelin says softly, and Rhoe’s face turns into a mask of confusion.

“Then why—“

Aelin throws up her arms, “Because, _Dad_ , I’m alone in this world. Aedion and Lys split up last month. Manon—is a horrible slut that tries to hook up with Arobynn every chance she gets. Aedion really isn’t doing well—I guess he started doing drugs. Lys was being horrible to him. Maybe they can work it out. But it’s going to be hard to hang with them alone. Dorian—“ She scoffs, “Dorian doesn’t know friend from foe.”

“What about Chaol?”

Aelin had gotten the news about six months ago, “Chaol’s _dead_.”

Rhoe looks like he’d been slapped, “What? How? Oh honey I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah well, it was bound to happen.” Chaol, like so many young people her age, had been shipped off to war, and then come home and had no resources for him to figure out his feelings. He’d become a heroin addict and died in a highway underpass from a drug overdose. She knows when people say that the opiate addiction rates are going up—that it’s mostly young people who are losing their lives. The young and the disenfranchised. She didn’t want to think about Chaol right now. Maybe she and Rowan could visit his grave.

Rhoe’s eyes are lined with silver, “I liked Chaol.”

She hates seeing her father cry, she walks out of the room and gets some soda from the fridge, giving them both a moment.

She stays there that night, and Arobynn texts her incessantly, and she eventually turns off her phone. Rhoe says he’ll help her get sober, but Aelin is still reluctant to admit her problems to her father. Partially because Rhoe had always been judgemental of people with addiction issues. Partially because she truly didn’t believe it was a problem.

She leaves in the morning before dawn, her phone still off. She shows up at Arobynn’s doorstep.

Arobynn’s eyes look… different, he clearly hasn’t gone to bed yet. “Hey, babe.”

She was growing to hate that word. “Hey. You alright?”

“I was up with Manon snorting smack until about 20 minutes ago.”

Aelin’s face falls, at least he’s honest. “Did you fuck her?”

“No, Dorian’s over too.” As if to say—if Dorian hadn’t been over Arobynn would have had his way with Manon.

Dorian, fuck what was he doing here? She knew Chaol’s death had made him impossibly sad but surely he didn’t want to follow the same ruinous road that had killed his best friend.

She breezes past and discovers that Manon and Dorian are _fucking_ in her and Arobynn’s bed.

Dorian’s eyes look bruised and there is a ghostly, haunted look in his eyes as Manon rides him. Dorian gives her a wink, and Aelin turns on her heel and gives them privacy.

Arobynn waggles his eyebrows and kisses her brow. “You know Dorian would fuck you, I know you want him.” Arobynn sounds soothing, and maybe she did want to forget, but this was not the way. This was madness.

The truth was—Dorian and Manon were made for each other. And it would be a cold day in hell when she got in between them.

She sits in Arobynn’s living room, cranks the music—despite it being only about six in the morning—and tries not to think about what is happening to the people around her.

The shining light among the whole mess is that there are only two months until she sees Rowan.

Rowan, her friend.

Rowan, her savior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave your thoughts. but if you have nothing nice to say, keep it to yourself !


	4. at night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet, and a freight train running through the middle of my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We accept the love we think we deserve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC RAPE.

**Fall 2011**

Fall comes early in this part of the world, in late August the leaves begin to change, the nights getting colder. Dorian is rushed to the hospital one night—and Arobynn acts strangely around Dorian and Manon from then on out. It doesn’t take long for Aelin to realize—Arobynn’s selling dope to Dorian and Manon. Dorian looks like he’s got one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. He’s thin, he’s over at her and Arobynn’s house nearly every day. Dorian came from money—but a three hundred dollar a day habit will wipe most bank accounts clean.

Manon comes over one day with a handful of fresh needles for Dorian—and herself.

Manon and Dorian have essentially moved into their guest room. Arobynn has a two-bedroom apartment, and Manon and Dorian aren’t charged rent—merely their addiction pays Arobynn enough to support _four_ people. Arobynn seems to become sleazier and sleazier by the day. His temper is worse and worse. Aelin is still beautiful, still a _thing_ to be coveted by men. She goes to raves and house parties, drinks so much that she drowns out the thoughts of Arobynn—until there is only light and music. Arobynn doesn’t much care about how much she drinks, but when she wakes up hungover _every day_ he actually says something.

“You know you don’t have to drink like Anheuser-Busch is going out of business,” Arobynn says one early September morning. Her hands shake slightly, she’s got a bad case to DT’s and she’s already reaching for her next drink—a beer bottle with about half left—from last night. It’d been left open to the rain—probably had bugs in it, probably a lot of rainwater too.

Arobynn stops her from drinking it. “Don’t do that—“ He says, a painfully clear note of desperation in his voice. “ _Don’t_.” As if on this one thing they are clear—addiction sucks.

Aelin frowns, tired and still shaking. Arobynn gets her a mini of vodka from the fridge. She knows this is not the kind of sympathy she needs or wants but she takes the mini gratefully, slugging it down like a woman who hadn’t seen water in weeks.

Arobynn’s eyes are lined with silver. He breaks it to her gently, softly, and she hadn’t thought he was capable of being so kind. But again—this is where their shared ground and shared history comes in handy. Arobynn saw—about three years ago—how Aelin had absolutely _pined_ over Dorian. Dorian—who was probably getting high for the first time in his and Manon’s room. Dorian would likely be dead by this time next week.

Aelin didn’t know if Dorian was stealing to get his drug money—he’d come from money and she sincerely hoped he wasn’t looting his mother’s wallet.

But she knows—she knows Dorian will die, just as Manon will.

So, instead of letting them succumb to their fates, she goes to the local needle exchange clinic—and purchases a nasal spray bottle of Narcan.

She gets home, checks on Dorian—he’s breathing and so is Manon but they’re out cold—higher than kites.

She gets a phone call—“Hello—“ it’s a number she doesn’t recognize.

Rowan’s rumbling voice answers her, “Hey—how’re you, babe?”

Aelin bursts into hysterical sobs—and Rowan knows because he’s friends with Aedion still, and Aelin had been trying to get Lys and Aedion back together—to no avail. Aedion had picked up an obscene weed habit, while weed wasn’t heroin—it was more expensive to get high on. Arobynn’s _widowmaker_ bags of heroin went for about ten bucks apiece. They were incredibly strong and deadly.

She goes out on the deck, trying to calm herself, “Rowan—“ she gasps, “Rowan I need you so badly.”

“I missed you, sweetheart,” Rowan sounds war-weary, “I’m actually in Ireland right now—“

Aelin feels—suddenly lighter than she has in weeks. “You’re headed home?” She dries her tears.

“Yeah—look if this Arobynn guy is making you miserable—why don’t you go stay at my mom’s house. She’ll take care of you, Aedion filled me in on your falling out with your dad. I’m so sorry you’ve lost your family.”

Aelin weeps silently, “Thanks, honey.”

She can hear the smile in Rowan’s voice, “Don’t mention it, now pack your shit and get away from that loser.” Rowan says, and she knows he loves her. Knows the coming weeks will be filled with healing and good company.

“Ok, I’ll see you in a week or so, alright?”

“Alright love, don’t forget I’m supposed to teach you to shoot.” Rowan reminds her. Over the years they’ve joked that Aelin needed to know how to shoot—how to defend herself—and it had been half a friendly joke and half Rowan’s annoyance that Aelin didn’t defend herself against Arobynn’s emotional abuse—and sometimes his physical abuse too.

She hangs up, a smile on her face for the first time in months. “How is he?” Arobynn’s acrid voice, distressed from anger and probably drugs, reaches her ears and the smile fades. It’s twilight, and Manon and Dorian—yes she can hear Dorian giving Manon dope dick.

Her hands shake, her pulse climbing with the threat, “He’s good.”

“C’mere.” Arobynn barks at her.

“No,” Aelin says slowly, her eyes downcast.

“You’re my girlfriend—maybe someday my wife. You will come when I tell you to.”

Aelin grips the lawn chair on their deck, fully prepared to throw it— “You know I’m about ten times stronger than you so don’t even try it.” Arobynn barks again at her.

“You’ve always been a monster—Arobynn.” Aelin’s voice quakes with the painful truth— “From the night we skipped prom and got high on ecstasy—to this moment you have been my one true enemy.”

“Come. Here.” Arobynn says slowly.

So, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the queen of Rowan Whitethorn’s heart is dragged into Arobynn Hamel’s house and made to submit.

While it happens, she wonders if this is really happening, she fades in and out of reality, his hands pressing her into the bed they’d shared so many nights. The love they’d shared—the quiet nights they’d had at the beginning—when Arobynn still lived with his mother. So many years they’d shared, so many Christmases and Easters, and birthdays.

And it all boiled down to one moment of horrible cruelty.

When Arobynn is done fucking her against her will, he taps her hip, her legs are sticky and she feels like she is filled with death itself. “All done, sweetheart.”

Aelin’s mind has taken her away, away, _away_. She hadn’t even realized he was _done_ with her.

He lets her pack a bag—lets her make a clean break.

There is no big final fight.

*~*~*

Rowan’s mother’s place is just across town, and to her surprise—Gavriel is there. Gavriel was one of Rowan’s friends—now in med school, and Rowan’s mother was an Anesthesiologist. They both know the bruises on her wrists, on the back of her neck, were consistent with a sexual assault. Rowan’s mother nearly gets down on bended knee and begs the girl her son had been in love with for three fucking years to get a rape kit.

“I’m fine, I just want some tea,” Aelin says finally. Rowan’s mother and Gavriel both give her a disappointed and shocked look. But Aelin does need something from her lover’s friend— “Gav.” She whispers as Mrs. Whitethorn uses her fancy tea maker.

Gavriel winks, “What’s up?”

“I need you to tell—I can’t tell Rowan.”

Gavriel gives a sharp nod and there are tears in his eyes.

*~*~*

Rowan comes home two weeks later.

Aelin gets dressed after not showering for ten days—and Rowan takes her out to lunch.

Aelin laughs at every one of his terrible jokes.

Rowan holds her hand and when Gavriel drives them home, he pulls Rowan aside, as they stand in Rowan’s mother’s driveway. Aelin keeps walking—and it feels like her back is breaking with the weight of the world when she hears Rowan _bellow_ with rage.

“Give me my fucking gun!” Rowan shouts at his mother, but apparently, the kind woman had foreseen her son’s rage.

Aelin cries as Rowan screams his rage and desperation. She’s afraid the cops will be called so she goes to Rowan and holds him.

“I’m so sorry,” Aelin says.

Rowan holds her to his chest. He is far too thin, nearly skeletal.

“I love you— _I love you—_ **I love you**.” Rowan chokes down his sobs.

The next morning she gets the news Manon and Dorian were rushed to the hospital—they’re alive but very sick. She is putting on her clothes, running to her car—Rowan slides into the passenger seat.

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere without me,” Rowan mutters darkly.

“I’m fine—“

“YOU’RE NOT FINE!” And this time Rowan is more desperate than he was yesterday—when he’d wanted to commit murder. There is a look of plain horror playing on his face. Both of them are stretched to the breaking point.

Aelin shrinks in on herself, and Rowan groans—“Baby, _please_. I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m so sorry—fuck.” Rowan continues.

Aelin sighs, her hands shaking, “It’s ok—I know you’re not—“

“Arobynn?”

Aelin nods, and Rowan holds her for a long moment.

They decide—that maybe Aelin better go by herself.

She gets there and Manon and Dorian are in adjacent beds. Dorian looks like he was run over by the withdrawal train. Manon’s hand is green, probably from a needle puncture that had gotten infected.

She sits by their bedside for three days—Rowan brings her food and Arobynn never shows.

When Manon is finally stabilized and Dorian has been awake and alert for eighteen hours—she hugs them both.

“If either of you ever does this again I’ll make sure Rowan puts a bullet in your fucking thick skulls, capiche?”

Manon’s eyes are still sallow, and Dorian’s hair is still lank. But they both nod.

And when she catches Dorian up—on everything—he and Rowan hold her. Manon rests her head in Aelin’s lap. And they vow one thing— _never again_.


End file.
